


Lifeblood

by Thalassophobia



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Disaster Human Anakin Skywalker, Disaster Lineage, Gen, Lightsaber Continuity AU, Much Hurt Minimum Comfort, Tatooine, Wildly Inaccurate Lightsaber Physics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-24 02:40:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30065397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thalassophobia/pseuds/Thalassophobia
Summary: A lightsaber is the life of a Jedi and there is no better tool at reflecting the tumultuous chronology of Anakin's.
Kudos: 4





	Lifeblood

Introspection had never been high on Anakin’s list of skills if it even could be put on the list at all.

Life, however, wasn’t fond of absolutes and on this shining day of Anakin’s, his intuition told him it was shaping up to be a day of exceptions. A fog slowed his thought processes to a honeyed crawl, stopping and starting and sputtering like an engine, but he reached the conclusion all the same. Anakin’s current state of abject misery could be blamed solely on himself. Now, all that was left for him was to stew in it. To his credit, he’d tried his best to prevent it. He really had. Despite Anakin’s best efforts to ameliorate the symptoms, having incorporated a barebones meditation and herbal tea into his morning routine, he trudged up the ship’s steep walkway with the worst hangover of his life.

Anakin pressed on, occasionally tripping over his own feet and running into things as he made his way through the dark ship.

When he was a youngling, Master Shaak Ti once remarked how Anakin ‘favored hindsight when foresight would be a much better friend to him’. Fresh from the desert and barely literate, Anakin had assumed Master Shaak Ti was just following the Jedi tradition of saying nothing in too many words and gone about his lessons.

Shuffling down a hallway, the sharp corner of a terminal caught him in the hip. The metal sang at the contact, a dull rattle of durasteel. Anakin paused in his pursuit of the perfect hiding place – an objective he couldn’t recall setting for himself – to cuss out the ship’s architecture. What kind of crackpot engineer put this many sharp corners on a vessel? Rubbing at the sore spot, Anakin understood now what Master Shaak Ti had been trying to tell him. He understood in the way you understand not to eat meat that’s been sitting out for too long only after spending thirty-six hours hugging a toilet. A bone-deep comprehension only hindsight could deliver.

In hindsight, getting into a drinking competition with Fives and Quin the night before travel had been a mistake on Anakin’s part. Now, he wouldn’t say he’d been drunk under the table no it’d been much closer than that. Neck and neck, for what’d seemed like forever. Loathe as he was to acknowledge, though Anakin had put up a hell of a fight, he had been the first to tap out. Ironically, because he’d remembered too little, too late that he had a trip scheduled for the next morning.

Anakin’s memory from that decision onward was fuzzy. Quinlan probably won, though he distinctly remembered Fives’ incessant gloating. Not that it mattered at all at this point. Anakin owed Rex fifty credits either way. Continuing the trek, he hugged the wall to keep steady.

Morning had yet to reach the rest of Coruscant.

As was becoming clear from the lack of personnel, Anakin was early. Determining how early would take a holopad and coordination he wasn’t sure he had, so he didn’t bother. He’d gone over the flight schedules before going out with Quinlan and Fives. Anakin knew he was on the right ship which was just about all the certainty he could muster. Everything else, coherence and contemplation remained on the single-minded pursuit of a hiding place.

Eventually, Anakin stopped beside a set of cubicles built into the wall. Six of them in stacks of three, one on top of the other. For the first time since waking up on his refresher floor, Anakin managed a smile. He then hoisted himself into the middlemost cubicle of the left stack. It took some finagling, but he got all his limbs inside. Anakin settled there, arms folded, knees high, cheek pressed against the cool metal. It helped a little.

Time passed in jagged smears, alternating between seconds taking an eternity and everything blurring together like scenery on a speeder. Anakin spent most of it fighting nauseous fits. Before he could piece two and two together, he was noticeably awake. Clones dashed every which way and the figure of a girl clad in dark robes blocked most of the too-bright lights.

“Master Skywalker?”

Anakin jerked his head up, a sharp thwang resounding when he smacked it on the back wall. He ignored how his brain shrieked bloody murder at both the sound and the impact and forced a smile, putting on the air of complete normalcy.

Anakin’s voice faded in and out in like static on a radio, breaking in awkward places. “Um, yes? Master Skywalker at your service. What can I do for you?”

The girl’s cordial smile took on an uncomfortable twist – the kind Padawans got when their Masters embarrassed them in front of other Masters, leaving them no choice but to grin and bear it.

“We’ll be departing for Ilum in just a few moments and I could use your help with the younglings,” she trailed off, glancing over her shoulder. Tattoos dusted the bridge of her nose, standing out dark against her green skin. Anakin recognized her. He knew who she was, but her name was slow to come to him.

“I’m the designated lead Padawan for this excursion and well, if I may ask, why are you sleeping in the gear cubbies?”

“Is that what these are?”

“Yes?”

Vision dotted with bright rings and dots from the lights, Anakin looked away from her briefly.

“So, do you want the truth or can I preserve what little dignity I have left?”

“Truth, please.”

Never one for half-measures, Anakin sighed. “I am so karking hungover right now.”

To the Padawan’s credit, she didn’t let any judgement leak through despite how every aspect of her, from her posture to her wording, bled principled and conservative. The Mirialan girl replied with a small nod, as if she’d already gathered that much.

“Understood, Master Skywalker. I’ll try to keep the younglings in order, but your name is still listed on the roster for today’s trip and I’m afraid, well, they’re expecting you.” She let the statement stand, before adding, “They’re all very excited to meet a General.”

Anakin waved off her concerns and shifted his legs to climb out of the cubby. The Padawan politely stepped aside to give him room. Feet on the ground, Anakin wobbled. He took some time to let his stomach settle down before he answered. “I’ll be fine,” he said. “Let the younglings do what they want. I’ll just have to deal with the dozens of, wait how many are there?”

“Six.”

“Alright, the sixes of hyperactive younglings blowing out my eardrums and playing my brain like a Stewjon drum.”

The Mirialan girl, Ahsoka’s friend, didn’t consider the statement as humorous as he meant it. “Are you sure you’re alright, Master? I’m sure there’s something in the med bay you could take – ”

“Already took it,” he said through a yawn. “A painkiller, that is. Before I left. It wouldn’t be right for me to rain on their parade just because I’m a little hungover. You can only experience Ilum for the first time once, right?”

She smiled and nodded. “Right.”

Anakin followed the Padawan to where the younglings were strapped in rows of two, happily chattering at each other. With all the stealth typical of a Jedi his rank, Anakin snuck into the back row and hunkered down into the seat. If they noticed him, then good for them. If not, then all the better for his headache and churning stomach. Clearly intent on being a silent observer the whole trip, Anakin’s plan was dashed when the Padawan, whose name he’d since remembered was Barriss Offee, drew the younglings’ attention and announced him anyway.

He couldn’t be too annoyed with her as he suddenly held the undivided attention of six starry-eyed Jedi hopefuls. Anakin stood and gave a short introduction while Barriss took the seat next to him. All throughout takeoff, he engaged the younglings. Questions came quicker than gunfire. Anakin provided answers and the occasional one-size fits all advice other Masters had given him. Halfway into the trip, they lost interest and talked among themselves. The little gremlins would be a task and a half for the Masters that would take them.

They were a rowdy, hot-tempered bunch each holding onto a rabid curiosity Anakin felt dwindling in himself.

Mallox established himself as the group’s peacekeeper, jumping in whenever tensions got too heated. Granted, Barriss was just as likely to jump in, she went with a surprisingly off-hand approach to resolving conflict, seeing if they could first solve it themselves. And solve it they did, thanks to Mallox.

A purple and white Togruta named Nipheen was the eldest of the group and acted like it too. Whereas Mallox slipped in between playful insults with a bit too much truth behind them, Nipheen shut things down. He sat in the first row and turned to give a _look_ to whoever he deemed had crossed a line.

He was good at it too, Anakin noted, having conquered the disapproving Master look before he himself had received one.

They must’ve all shared a creche.

Kilik and Dissea sat on opposite ends, the latter positioned directly in front of Anakin and the former next to Nipheen up front. The space between them, however, did nothing to stop them from popping out of their seats to antagonize one another. Twins from Pantora, the only thing marking their connection was the similarity of their Force signatures where they were close to identical. Petite and deadpan, Kilik had white hair that curled at odd angles. Dark-haired and expressive, Dissea wore a scowl each time Anakin caught a glimpse of her face. It paired well with the anger she was constantly emitting.

Anakin wondered if any Masters had addressed it. That kind of anger was rare among Jedi.

Fhen had the most scathing comments which were mostly directed at Kilik. He had the telltale galaxy eyes of his species and often slipped into his native Rodian to mutter curses Barriss either couldn’t catch or didn’t deem worth addressing. He sat slumped with arms crossed and only answered to Mallox’s enthusiasm.

Dakar Thai talked with his hands and managed to steer the conversation back to himself and his legendary Temple escapades three times. It was Fhen and Dissea that called him out on it. He was quiet the rest of the trip, red to the tips of his ears.

For better or worse, they operated as a family unit. Anakin wished their passing or failing weren’t so dependent on the war raging just beyond the protection of Coruscant. The Council was approving younger and younger Padawans these days, regardless of their skill. Serious and polite, Barriss largely kept herself out of the idle chatter, but threw in every now and then either to reintroduce a sense of gravitas to the sacred ritual they were about to undergo or to take little jabs at him. Anakin took them in stride. She hid behind a carefully cultivated mask of demure Jedihood, but Barriss had bite. Anakin expected nothing less from Luminara’s ward.

“How do you break one anyway?”

“Lots of ways to break a lightsaber,” he shrugged. “Fact that you haven’t proves you’re still wet behind the ears.”

“Are you sure about that, Master Skywalker?”

“I admit that I can be a bit heavy-handed.”

Before long, they touched down on the planet. Anakin had a minor meltdown wondering where he’d left his snow gear, if he’d even remembered to bring it. Barriss pointed him in the direction of the cubbies he’d been sleeping in. She’d seen it a couple corridors away near the refreshers. Sure enough, he’d found it there, suited up, and caught up just in time.

Cold greeted him like a drunken kiss. Overwhelming, suffocating, and with too much teeth. He shivered as the winds of Ilum blew through him, threatening to cut him to ribbons. During his life, Anakin had the pleasure of experiencing both extremes of weather.

If prompted, he would be able to provide an explanation no deeper than a shrug and noncommittal grunt of why he preferred the quiet bleeding out of ice planets to the frantic suffocation of desert ones. Both were slow deaths, so he hadn’t the slightest clue why he preferred one over the other. Even as his cheeks burned from the sharp winds and snowfall, Anakin followed the younglings into the dark of Ilum. One by one, Anakin’s gaggle of younglings cooed and awed at the planet’s terrain. Anakin wrapped his arms tight around himself, bent over at the waist.

It invaded him, flowing down his nose and throat, singeing his nose. Ilum’s detached cold bled the exposed parts of him dry. It was not unlike his birth planet in that way. Nausea surged. All that panicking from before had his stomach clenching now. A dull warning that only adults seemed to be able to make sense of forced Anakin away from the group. He snuck around back of the ship, Barriss’ calls for order shrill in his ears, and vomited. Honestly, he doubted anyone doubted his dry heaving. Barriss was halfway out of sight by the time Anakin’s stomach settled enough for him to attempt rejoining them. He had to jog to catch up.

Anakin never mentioned it directly, but he loved the cold.

They passed by frosted arches, sky-scraping spires, and a dozen other such naturally occurring sculptures that triggered Anakin’s anxiety. As far as the Order knew, Ilum was uninhabitable but Anakin wasn’t the type to put faith in absolutes. What would it take for a life form to survive in the cold or, worse yet thrive in it? What would a life form born in frigid darkness do to the likes of them who enjoyed the carefully regulated temperatures of Coruscant? Anakin fixed his gaze on the horizon.

Yes, Ilum was a planet unlike any other in the galaxy. In some ways, it acted like the ideal so many of his peers strived for. A perfect balance of non-attachment, deadliness, and utility. Ilum was the lifeblood of the Jedi Order, after all. He kept his hands to himself, stuffed under his pits while the others wrangled the Force into opening the path to the Temple.

Dissea struggled and Dakar Thai put more into his facial expression than wielding the Force. The ice wall eventually cracked. It groaned and rumbled like a cornered beast. Anakin clapped his hands over his earmuffs and instinctively took a couple steps back. He watched the wall. On his third trip to Ilum, a youngling had nearly been crushed by falling debris – thank the Force for Aayla’s quick reflexes.

Though he sensed the younglings’ trepidation like the prickle in the air before a storm, Anakin imagined his presence put a damper on the whole adventure. Give it half a thought and they’d realize. Perhaps Dakar Thai had realized and that’s why his concentration was so broken. Admittedly, none of the younglings were in any position to think beyond their current task. Nothing lasted forever. An obvious admission for a man his age, but it hadn’t always been such a tried-and-true law of the universe. Anakin had been devastated when he’d broken his first lightsaber. With all the ice cleared, they entered the Temple where they found Master Depa Billaba waiting. There was a surprise. Usually, Master Yoda was waiting on the other side of the glacier.

Anakin smiled, relaxing a bit.

“What is the most important quality of a Jedi?” Master Billaba asked. Anakin, taking his place in the impromptu semi-circle at the left end in between Mallox and Barriss, raised his hand.

“Trust, Master,” he answered. She gave him a grin and a nod. Out of all the Masters, Depa Billaba was one after Anakin’s own heart. Second only to Quinlan Vos in violent unpredictability and near instant rapport.

“Correct, Skywalker,” she said, “but let’s give the actual younglings a chance, hm?”

Kilik answered strength.

Dissea answered justice.

Nipheen answered accountability.

Mallox answered temperance.

Fhen answered compassion.

Dakar Thai answered wisdom.

If one were to reach out through the Force at him, they’d be met with the sensation of wet sandpaper or soggy bread. Master Billaba continued her preparatory lecture which Anakin for the most part tuned out. It wasn’t a slight against her. He’d left half his attention span out in the frozen wastelands. At least the cold lessened his hangover some. Anakin dipped down onto his haunches. Depa talked about procedure and the importance of teamwork. She was laying the drama on a bit thick in Anakin’s opinion. No way a youngling actually got trapped in the caves. He hugged his knees, laying his head on the pillow he’d made with his arms. If nothing else, he was thankful for the cold.

Anakin drifted again, vision blurring. He might have been able to catch a quick nap if Barriss hadn’t noticed. She nudged him hard through the Force. Anakin was struck with a falling sensation and scrambled to his feet. Mallox and Kilik stared at him. Then, Master Billaba gave the go ahead to start. Anakin went in last, trailing behind the rest.

Snow crunched underneath his boots. When the Force wasn’t messing with his perception, Anakin could find his way through the cave no problem. Getting lost was part of the process, however, so Anakin walked with little regard to where he was going and how he’d get back. He moved slow, careful of the patches of ice.

Over the years, he had developed a method of identifying crystals. He turned a sharp corner and came across a large dip in the wall. It was an unnatural shape, the edges of the depression curving in smooth lines. This had been carved for sure. Anakin chuckled. He wished he could get the name of the youngling who decided the best course of action was carving a meditation square into the ice. The top of his hood brushed the roof of the cranny. Anakin adjusted, pulling it up as far as it would go by fur trim. He crossed his legs and rested his hands on his knees.

The key to picking crystals lay in the approach. Force crystals worked like any other living organism. They responded to a stimulus. It was obvious to him now, but when you’re a youngling the furthest from home you’ve ever been with the threat of hypothermia hanging over your head, it’s difficult to know your own name. For Anakin, Kaiburr crystals responded best to introspection and confessions. Anakin understood what was waiting for him.

He meditated, cycling through confessions that’d awarded him a crystal before. Nothing, of course. It wouldn’t be satisfied by cheap admissions.

He inhaled and exhaled and braced himself.

_Dig deep._

Anakin got straight to the point.

He thought about his mother. It was surprisingly easy to do in the dim glow. He gritted his teeth. An acrid taste crept up the back of his throat. Solitude tended to make these things far too easy for Anakin. Memories were yanked to the forefront of his mind. They burned as vivid as the day he gained them. Helplessness tugged at the edge of his concentration. Anakin cut through it, wrapped up the emotional miasma tight in a little bow, and offered up the tangled mess to the Force and to Ilum.

The cave gobbled up his offering and demanded more.

Anakin sneered, but kept his eyes shut. Both Ilum and the Force were greedy in that way. They took whatever he gave and rarely gave recompense. He offered fear this time.

_I fear I am not enough._

Silence.

He growled, scrubbing damp mittens over his face. That was a confession worth its weight in gold. The Force wanted another slice of him. Deeper, it prodded. He returned his hands to his knees. Deeper, Anakin plunged. Fears were for his Padawan years. Anakin was a man now. It required truths.

Anakin Skywalker lived life with a timer in his head. An infernal ticking that never quite left him no matter how relaxed he believed himself to be. Like so many disgusting parts of him, it’d been born on Tatooine. An unavoidable countdown. A deadline to what Anakin’s mind whispered was inevitable.

“I’m waiting,” he confessed.

From Qui Gon’s funeral, from the second the Order had been forced to accept him, Anakin had been waiting for the other shoe to drop. In those first months, he waited with bated breath for them to send him back, for them to see him for the imposter he was, and for Obi Wan Kenobi to discard the noble persona and prove he wasn’t half the man he pretended to be. But the Order not only kept him, they knighted him. They trusted him enough to give him a Padawan of his own. Obi Wan not only proved himself more than noble and good and kind, he had the gall to call Anakin friend.

None of it mattered. None of it factored into his mental processes, no matter how much he wanted it to. Regardless, Anakin waited for when he was no longer safe – for the day when Padme revoked her love, when Ahsoka found better than him and became all she could be without him, when Anakin himself proved just how misplaced Obi Wan’s faith and affection was. Anakin broke his meditation and waited. There wasn’t so much as a flicker.

“C’mon you stupid karking cave, I know you felt that.”

The timer in his head, counting down to the apocalypse, spoke for him.

_**You never left Tatooine.** _

“That’s not true.”

_**You’ve never been free. You’ll never be free.** _

Anakin shook his head. “That’s a lie,” he spat. “It’s not true.”

_**Look at your men. Look at the friends the Republic recognizes by number and usefulness alone. That’s what a life is worth to the democratic Galactic Republic. Deny it, I dare you.** _

Anakin swallowed hard and refused the concessions his mind was already making.

_**It doesn’t have to be this way, but you’ve resigned yourself to being exactly what the scum suckers on Tatooine told you you were.** _

He repeated it again, “That’s not true.”

_**Once a slave, always a slave.** _

A thrum of grim recognition blared hot inside him threatening to destabilize every emotion, every doubt Anakin had ever tucked away. He sighed through his nose and chewed on his bottom lip. He let the ideas linger, unchallenged and unresolved. Even hungover, he could recognize these as thoughts for his darkest days. On any other day, he might’ve tried pushing back on those thoughts but today was an exceptional sort of day where Anakin realized he’d spiral if he dug any deeper.

For the moment, he was okay. In spite of the mountain of truths he couldn’t accept, Anakin was okay and that’s all he needed to concern himself with. So long as that okay-ness held, Anakin would not falter. He would not fail. There was a glimmer in the Force, a light chuckle in response to his vulnerability, a twinkle from a distant star. Anakin looked down. He used two fingers to dig a hole in the snow in the triangular window made by his crossed legs and pulled out a tiny Kaiburr crystal.

“So, you’ve got a sense of humor now?” Anakin asked the cave, getting to his feet.

Barriss and Depa acknowledged him with congratulations. He thanked them, spouted a dry comment on the younglings’ progress despite not having checked and then was out of the Temple before they had a chance to object. Biting cold welcomed him. Anakin trudged back to the ship alone and found refuge in a refresher. He managed to get himself together after takeoff. Anakin was halfway to rejoining everyone when a familiar presence prickled the edges of his senses.

He discovered Dissea huddled in a bottom cubby.

“What are you doing here?”

“I failed,” Dissea muttered. There was a swell in the Force. Her emotions flowed out, unmitigated.

“Listen – ” he was about to say it wasn’t a big deal, but that would’ve been a lie, “there will be a next time.”

“What’s the point? If I didn’t pass the first time then why bother?”

Anakin reminded himself that in this moment, Dissea’s worries were eating her alive. No matter how melodramatic he might think them, this was serious. He had to treat it as such. He didn’t know this girl, but it was clear she needed somebody to talk to.

“What do you have to lose?”

Dissea snapped her head up, facing him. A million things screamed from her mind to his and oh, there it was; the reason for her failure. Fury scrawled itself all over the youngling’s face, warping her features. Anakin stared at her a while then took a seat on the floor, sighing at the effort. Dissea’s anger was a different breed from Anakin’s. Where his clung to dark corners and solitude, timing its bursting onto the scene for when it’d cause the most destruction, Dissea’s refused such petty tactics. It didn’t disguise itself as anything but what it was. A part of Anakin admired the youngling for that. She allowed her anger to blaze bright and true, unwavering blue.

“What do you have to lose by trying again?”

“It’s not about losing anything – it’s just – it’s – it’s humiliating.”

“Yeah, I’ll give you that.”

Anakin let the confirmation settle, leaving them both in silence. Time was the best thing for her. Give her the space to sort out her feelings without the influence of a person her senior both in age and rank.

“How long until I can take the test again?”

Anakin smiled. “One full planetary rotation.”

He had planned on keeping the youngling company for as long as she needed, but not a full minute later Nipheen rounded a corner and stumbled upon them. He turned over his shoulder and beckoned. “Found her.” One by one, all five of them made themselves known. Kilik provided expertly attuned comfort quietly through the Force while Mallox did so verbally. Dakar Thai launched into distracting Dissea when he could and Fhen dropped his scowl for a pensive frown riddled with worry. Nipheen had led the impromptu search party and led them still when Anakin prompted them to return to their seats for takeoff. It was discreet, but Anakin saw Kilik holding her sister’s hand all the way back to Coruscant. Surprisingly, it was this more than Ilum’s trial that set off the unbearable ache in his chest.


End file.
